Secret Door

Fourteen

I heard the doorbell at half past seven. 

"That'll be Alex."  I thought to myself. I was so nervous tonight that I had noticed my new habit of talking to myself as I tidied up the place and fixed our meal.  

"Hello," I crooned, opening the door to see him standing there in his navy blue peacoat, holding a bottle of wine to his chest.

"Hello, love," Al smiled, immediately coming inside and kissing me deeply. I swayed, backing up against the side table by the door to keep myself up.

"Whoa, Al. Not just yet, alright. I proper cooked for you and everything."

Alex just smirked so arrogantly. He grinned at me with that cheeky smile and I already felt intoxicated. I kissed that smile again just sweetly; softly.

He followed me into the kitchen and sat the wine bottle down on the counter, hanging his coat on the chair. I twisted the label around to see what he had brought. Something French I had never heard of.

"French, eh? Sucking up a bit are we, Al?" I flirted, spinning the bottle around. 

He blushed, and I suddenly wondered how much this bottle had cost him.

"How much did you pay for this, again?"

"You do not want to know."

I stared at him in disbelief. 

"Alex, I swear if you paid more than 30 quid for this..." I trailed off as his face turned bright red and he started fiddling with his shirt buttons.

"What?" I said.

He didn't say anything. He just stared at his hands. 

"How much was it?" I kept prying.

"160," he mumbled, not looking up.

"160 pounds?!" I exclaimed, grabbing the counter in order to not fall over. 

"I'm sorry. I just wanted it to be special, that's all." he muttered back, still looking down and fidgeting all embarrassed.

We sat in silence for a few moments until I started giggling. Alex looked up, incredulous. 

"You are fucking daft," I concluded. 

Alex just sat there, confused. I walked around the counter and held my hands to his cheeks, kissing him lovingly.

"What, so you aren't upset with me?" Al asked, looking flushed after our kiss. 

"'Course not," I assured him. 

He smiled, burying his face in my chest. We stayed like that for a couple minutes. I just took it all in: his smell, his warmth, his hands, his hair. I wanted him right then. 

"So, what did you make me anyway?" he suddenly blurted out. 

I jumped, and walked over to show him the chicken I had roasted and the bread in the oven. He reached up for two wine glasses as I explained everything I had made. "Sounds wonderful, babe," he commented. My heart swelled at his attitude. I mean, I knew this was a night where he would be in a good mood, but something else was there. He just seemed looser; more carefree. I hadn't seen him like this in so long. I looked at him pouring the wine into his glass. He hadn't been drinking around me in weeks. Not until now. My stomach felt sick, and I reached for his glass.

"Eh, let's not break out that 160 pound worth wine yet. Better save it for dinner," I mumbled, picking up the bottle too and carrying them over to the counter by the stove.

"Dinner's almost finished anyway, Mi," he said back, still smiling. He must have thought I was still playing a cute little game. He must have thought I was still pretending to be on his case about spending so much on something so superfluous. But that's just the sort of thing Al would do; the sort of thing addicts would do. They would make excuses for splurging on their fixes, make excuses for how important it is. He got up to fetch the wine from behind me. I kissed him as an intercept. It was a long kiss, angry and hard as I pushed him against the sink counter, digging his back into it as I clutched his waist. He moaned and grabbed my arms, seeming to forget all about his drink.